


marshmallow fluff

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Cooking, F/M, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Holiday cooking, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 20:50:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12896544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: Written for a Holiday Prompt.  Daisy and Coulson make marshmallow fluff in the kitchen.





	marshmallow fluff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Persiflage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/gifts).



"I'm telling you, this is better than whatever you had from the jar at the grocery store."

"I never had any of the stuff from the grocery store," she admits, looking at the items assembled in the kitchen.

He gives her one of those looks, like he would like to have some words with the people from her past.

"But these," she tells him, changing the subject with a lilt in her voice and a light touch on his arm. "Are going to fix Simmons' healthy holiday hot chocolate?"

"What happens in the kitchen, stays in the kitchen," he tells her knowingly, starting to push up his sleeves.

"Meaning, don't let Simmons know what the ingredients involved are. Right," she adds with a point of her finger, and comes to stand beside him. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Separate the eggs?" he tells her, looking at the piece of paper on the counter top.

She leans over his shoulder and puts her hand on his wrist to steady it, looks at the neat, artistic handwriting on it.

"You wrote it all out, by hand, huh?" she asks him, near his ear, thinking about other things that could happen in the kitchen and stay in the kitchen.

His eyes turn towards her first, and she swears she can see a smile in them, before the corner of his mouth starts to curl.

The answer is yes, even though he hasn't said a word. She needs to make sure he knows what he's actually said yes to.

She lets go of his hand and then steps up next to him, till their shoulders touch, and she starts to crack the eggs.

After the first try, he takes one in his hand and does something to show off with a flick of his wrist and one-handed.

She thinks she saw Julia Child do that on a PBS show once when she lived with a family in Brooklyn for a month.

Anyway, it's kind of hot, and she's not exactly sure why, but she just hands over the other egg to him so she can watch him do it again.

"You try it," he says, reaching for her wrist, and holding it between his thumb and fingers, putting the egg into her palm with his prosthetic.

"Okay," she tells him, glancing at him for a moment, before copying his movements and watching the egg whites slip through the strainer while he holds it.

It's pretty easy, but she still gets a tiny bit of shell into the bowl catching the egg whites, and she picks up the spoon to maneuver it out.

She can tell he's sort of trying to measure things out of the corner of her eye, while he's watching her out of the corner of his eye.

The pan on the stove has several things in it from the list, including corn syrup, and it's heating up over the gas flame.

"Heating up your favorite food group, I see?" she teases him. "How long?"

"About twelve minutes, give or take a few," he answers, moving to the sink to drop in the measuring cups. "And I've never seen you turn down anything sweet."

"That's true," she admits, feeling her face get hot at the tone of his reply, hoping that it is as suggestive as it sounded.

She leans back against the counter on her elbows while he starts to whisk the eggs, and sweeps her hair away from her shoulder.

"I do like a very sweet thing."

His hands stop moving, still, and then he adds a few dry ingredients to it and starts the beating motion again, furiously.

"I know," he tells her with a smirk, raising his eyebrows, looking down into the bowl. "That's why I decided to come to your rescue for the holiday party."

"My rescuer?" she smiles back at him, feeling her smile getting wider, looking at the tension in the muscles of his arms. "How should I say thank you?"

Setting the bowl down, he wipes his hands on the soft kitchen towel, running it across his palms, his eyes fixed on the burgundy sweater she's wearing.

"How are we doing on time?" she asks, calling him back from wherever he just went mentally. Mind blown, she hopes.

"Uh, eight minutes," he tells her, as she pushes herself up and sits on the top putting her hands on the counter between her knees.

"I wasn't looking for a thank you, necessarily," he blurts out, and swallows for a moment, eyes darting to her knee before she reaches out with a hand and tugs on the fabric of his shirtsleeve.

"Come here."

He puts the towel down and she releases his shirt while he obediently comes and stands directly in front of her, hands on his hips.

"I think you should come closer," she tells him, leaning backwards on one arm.

Taking a breath, he takes the first step, then another, moving between her legs, until it's just far enough and she sits up straighter against him.

There's barely any distance between them at all now.

"Better?" he asks, like he's unsure of the sound of his own voice. It's fun watching him get flustered with excitement.

"Better," she nods, slipping her fingers around his tie and pulling him in until their mouths come together, until she feels his fingers digging into the fabric of her jeans, starting at her knees then travelling up to her hips.

She wasn't sure what she thought it would be like, kissing Coulson for the first time. It's not like she hasn't thought about it before. Their connection, the way he knows her like no one else. The way his eyes feel like he's always seeking her out.

It's surprising to her how much this feels like a missing piece, the way that they fit, how his mouth knows hers, but makes her believe kissing has been invented all over again.

He just starts to slip his tongue into her mouth with a tiny moan, when the timer's buzzer goes off.

"I-" he starts to apologize, his face almost as flushed as his lips. "It'll burn if I don't-"

"It's fine," and she gently pushes him away then hops off the counter to come stand behind him. "Next?"

There's a thermometer in the pan and he checks it, then takes the syrup mix off the stove and puts the whites in the mixer, scooping it out with the spatula, his arms shaking a little.

"Your'e doing fine," she tells him, against the shell of his ear, feeling out the shape of his hips.

"Add the sweet thing," he tells her over his shoulder, as she threads her arms around his waist, and presses her lips to the back of his neck.

The mixer is loud when it's turned on, but her hands press against his chest, and she can feel his breathing stutter, as she dots kisses on the bit of exposed skin at the back of his neck.

He holds the bowl up with the prosthetic, letting it slowly stream into the mixture, watching it get fluffier, as she presses their hips together, grinding against the counter.

The way he bites on his bottom lip makes her think he's holding back a serious curse word, and she starts to laugh at the idea of him coming undone like this for her.

"What?" he asks, with a burst of breath, turning the mixer off.

"Don't forget the vanilla," she tells him, tapping at the recipe paper on the counter while propping her chin up on his shoulder.

She starts to undo his belt.

The way he closes his eyes, as her hand slips past the suit pants into his boxers makes her stop breathing for a moment.  This is all happening too fast and not fast enough.

Reaching with her other hand, she tips his wrist and adds the measure of vanilla he's holding into the mixer and turns it back on again.

"What are we looking for now?" she asks over the mixer, feeling his groan vibrate through her chest as her palm slips over him, again and again.

"Stiff-," he says, trying to contain himself. "Stiff peaks," he finally gets out, turning towards her with a dirty smile.

There's childish laughter in their throats as they kiss.


End file.
